


What Would Have Happened

by DevBasaa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, historic sexual relationship during the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevBasaa/pseuds/DevBasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bucky has an unexpected dream, he and Steve talk about what might have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Would Have Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I needed some relationshippy, intimate outlet for all the UST and interrupted love I've BEEN writing in the '[Moments In and Out of Time](http://archiveofourown.org/series/95870)' series. I think the boys just needed to be together without a problem for a little while. Smut ensued.

A dream woke him; they often did. He’d once speculated that, thanks to the years in and out of cryo, he’d never properly dreamed and now his brain was making up for lost time. He dreamed every night, vividly. In the beginning, they were nightmares, a horrible barrage of violent and bloody images that brought him screaming awake. But thanks to Steve and his friends (but mostly Steve) the nightmares came very rarely these days. He’d long ago admitted that the therapy Sam had insisted Bucky participate in had actually worked.

This dream though had been different than most. Bucky was used to memory dreams, usually flashbacks to his years in Brooklyn, or “everyday” dreams, where he did mundane tasks like cooking and folding laundry. Which always rather amused him. He supposed, after living the life he had, mundane dreams had an element of fantasy to them.

This time, though, he dreamed of what never was. He dreamed of celebrating V-E Day with Steve and the Howling Commandos. He dreamed of a clandestine kiss shared in honor of their victory. Of course, it helped that he and Steve had watched a documentary on the subject before bed. But that wasn’t the first World War II documentary they’d watched and Bucky never before dreamed about what might have been.

Bucky lay sprawled on his back in the bed he shared with Steve, his legs tangled in the blankets, a pillow tucked under his head. Steve, who required less sleep than Bucky, still sat up awake, propped against pillows, a book nestled in his lap. He kept a small reading lamp clipped to the bedframe, just over his shoulder for his late-night reading. He hadn’t acknowledged that Bucky had woken yet; maybe he hadn’t realized he’d even fallen asleep. Steve could lose himself in books that way.

“Steve?”

Steve didn’t look up from his book, but made a deep humming noise in response.

Bucky reached up and rubbed a finger against Steve’s thigh. The dream had him wondering, his mind wandering over possibilities and speculations. If he and Steve could have had the chance to kiss on V-E day, their whole world would have been different. Bucky wouldn’t have been captured by a Russian sub-group of Hydra. Steve wouldn’t have nose-dived an experimental plane into icy waters.

If left Bucky considering: what would their post-war life have been like?

“I was just thinking,” Bucky started; Steve made another murmured, but distracted affirmation noise. “What would have happened? If we’d lived. The normal way.”

Steve looked up and then down at Bucky; there was a crease between his brows. “You mean after the war?”

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “You would have married Peggy. Don’t you think?”

Steve closed his book and rested it in his lap; he sighed. “I think I would have. And you would have met some girl and married her.” He grinned slightly, with a small lift of one side of his mouth, which Bucky always loved. “You would have stood up for me at my wedding and I would have done the same for you.”

Bucky couldn’t miss the fondness in his expression and voice as he said that. But Bucky frowned. “And that would have been it. Despite what we meant to each other during the war.”

Steve raised one brow, glancing at Bucky. “You didn’t marry your male lover in those days.”

Bucky sighed; Steve was right. He would have married the first best thing that came along who, even temporarily, made him forget about Steve. And Steve would have never questioned his decision to marry Peggy. “Yeah,” Bucky said, drawing the word out with another sigh.

Steve brushed the back of his index finger across Bucky’s cheekbone. “Are you OK?”

Bucky nodded. “I had an odd dream, that’s all. It got me to thinking. I should just go back to sleep.”

He closed his eyes and kept his hand resting against Steve’s thigh, an anchoring touch that reminded him he wasn’t alone. It was his left hand, but that was OK. Tony Stark had altered the wiring to make touch feel more normal, less hyper-sensitive, so that Bucky only barely noticed the difference in sensation between his right and left hand. 

But, try as he might, Bucky couldn’t sleep. He could only think of the previous dream, and of the pain he’d likely have felt while standing up at the altar with Steve as he married Peggy. He wished Steve hadn’t found the thought of their respective marriages so endearing.

After a moment, though, Steve closed the book again. He rested it on his lap and said. “But I don’t think that would have been it.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked back up at him, raising his brow. “No?”

Steve had a distant look in his eyes. He stared across the room, but Bucky imagined he was picturing what their lives might have been like.

“We would have remained together in our way, working for SSR, maybe being a part of founding SHIELD. We would have spent probably more time together than we would have with our wives.”

Bucky frowned; that didn’t help him at all. “Except Peggy would have been at SHIELD right alongside you.”

Steve smiled, a wistful quirk to his lips. “She would have, yes. And I think I would have enjoyed that. Having my best girl and my best friend at my side always.”

Bucky tried not to roll his eyes. Steve—for as blindingly intelligent as he was—he could be really dense sometimes. “Steve. I know how I felt about you back then and I don’t think I would have been very welcoming to Peggy.” Bucky tilted his head to look directly up at him. “I think I would have been jealous.”

“You do?” Steve had a pained look on his face, which made Bucky feel badly for being honest. But then Steve gently brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair and that felt too good to linger on bad feelings. 

Bucky closed his eyes, luxuriating in Steve’s touch. “Mmmhm, I do.”

“Well, I suppose that makes sense.” Steve continued to stroke Bucky’s hair. “I was always jealous of the girls you cultivated in Brooklyn.”

Bucky made a face and looked up at Steve, a touch annoyed. “Yeah, but they didn’t mean anything to me. _You_ meant everything.” He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “There wasn’t anything for you to be jealous of. But Peggy...” Bucky sighed and glanced away. “I remember how you looked at her.”

As if to make the memory ten times worse, Steve said nothing. Not a confirmation and certainly not a denial. Bucky didn’t need a reminder of how much Peggy had meant to Steve. But at least Steve hadn’t stopped stroking his hair.

“So,” Bucky said, drawling the syllable out long, “as I said, that would have been it.”

The repetitive, soft caress might have been enough to drift Bucky back to sleep, especially in the silence that followed his last statement. But then Steve spoke again.

“Still...”

Bucky kept his eyes closed. “Yes?”

“I remember how I felt about you back then, too. It’s hard to imagine it just ending. It didn’t take us long to be together again after your recovery. I think...” Steve’s hand stilled, so Bucky looked up again. Steve had that distant look on his face, turning something over in his mind.

“I think we would have been together one evening, a few years down the road. We would have been talking about old times, the two of us in the basement of one of our homes, sitting too close on an old couch. I would have looked at you and remembered those times during the war and I would have kissed you.”

Bucky’s brow reached his hairline. He looked up at Steve, but said nothing as Steve continued to mull over this idea. 

“Maybe it would start as just a kiss, something tender, for the memories. And I might have said something sensible, like “I shouldn’t have done that” and you—

Bucky knew what he’d say, despite it being Steve’s story; despite it being a fantasy. “I would have said, “I miss you.””

Steve looked down at Bucky with a soft smile. “Oh, that would have hit me. Because, as I imagine, we would be seeing each other all the time. But you still would miss _us_ and I’d realize that I did, too.”

For a moment, neither spoke, but they shared a deep gaze. There was something magical and strange about Steve’s speculation. Bucky thought he could feel that longing, that sense of missing Steve, despite lying together in a bed they’d shared for over a year now.

His voice a bit thick, Bucky said, “What then?”

Steve looked away, the distant look on his face returning. “Well, I think I would have let myself be caught up in the moment. I’d kiss you again, taking your face in my hands and I’d use my tongue until you moaned.”

Bucky felt his breath quicken; the story was taking an interesting turn. 

“I’d keep thinking about how good you felt against me and how exciting it was to be kissing you again—“

“Christ, Steve—“

“And I would have leaned into you and you—caught up in your own memories—would have pulled me closer until I had you pinned against the cushions.” Steve’s expression changed. He raised one brow and his mouth slackened a bit; he smiled. 

Bucky thought, _You can’t listen to your lover talk like that without it having an affect on you._ He slid his right hand across his abdomen and rested it at his crotch. Gently, he rubbed himself through his boxers.

Steve’s expression turned even more delighted as he continued on. “I wouldn’t have been able to hold back, then. I would have kissed your mouth and your chin and your neck and I would have pulled open your shirt to kiss your chest.”

“I’d have buried my hands in your hair.” 

Steve nodded. “Yes.” His voice became more breathless. “Then I would have climbed back up your body and kissed you again, loving that moan you make.”

Bucky chewed on his lower lip and pushed his hand inside his shorts. 

“I would have wedged my thigh between your legs and I would have felt how hard I’d made you.”

Bucky could barely catch his breath and it showed in his voice. “Someone would discover us.”

Steve set aside his book on the bedside stand and watched Bucky now. Bucky could see how the sheet over his lap had tented, but Steve kept one hand buried in Bucky’s hair and the other resting on his own thigh. Bucky decided that Steve had far more restraint than he did.

“No,” Steve said, “we’d be at your house and your wife would have known better than to interrupt you when you were with me. Maybe she even knew that you loved me, but she never spoke of it.”

Bucky could easily picture this scene, lying on his back, softly moaning as the love of his life gave in to the passion they’d shared years ago and denied themselves. He’d fist the cushions and whisper Steve’s name as he kissed his way down Bucky’s body, pulling apart his perfectly pressed SHIELD uniform. Bucky would spread his legs and they’d fit their bodies together as they did during the war and he’d never doubt how much he loved this man. 

Stroking himself in earnest, Bucky panted. “So you’d come to my place.”

“Yeah. I’d end up lying between your legs, my mouth on you, like that time we got stranded in Paris and had nothing better to do—“

“Than to suck each other’s cocks.”

Bucky moved quickly then, kicking off his boxers and shifting to lean across Steve’s lap. He pulled back the sheet and exposed Steve’s erection, trapped in the cotton of his boxers-briefs. Steve lifted his hips, grinning, as Bucky carefully removed the shorts. Bucky then levered himself up to kiss Steve, taking his mouth hard and deep, cupping his jaw.

Kissing Steve was always a delight because he moaned a little into every kiss and it sent waves of sensation down Bucky’s spine. With a parting nibble to Steve’s lower lip, Bucky drew back and then turned downwards; he took Steve’s cock into his mouth.

“Bucky, God.” Steve was breathing hard now; his voice thick with arousal and emotion. After a moment, and a few deep moans, he continued his story. “It would have been our secret,” he said between gasps. “We’d take SHIELD assignments together and we’d make love in hotels across the US.”

Bucky drew hard on Steve’s cock, loving the feel of Steve’s hand against his nape, urging him on. But he didn’t want Steve to come, yet. Bucky’s own need thrummed through his body and he knew how he wanted it satisfied tonight.

Lifting his head, giving a slow last taste, Bucky glanced up at Steve and said, “I need you to fuck me now.”

Steve didn’t use these words: Fuck, cock—but Bucky did. He’d learned them through his years in and out of time. And though they never passed Steve’s lips, Bucky swore Steve loved it when he uttered every one.

Steve twisted to pin Bucky against the bed and bent down to kiss again, deep and searching and making Bucky arch against Steve’s weight. They rubbed their arousals together, Bucky gasping as his excitement spiked. He broke away from the kiss.

“Steve, please...”

“Of course, baby.”

Steve guided Bucky over, onto his knees. They had their preferences and each knew when it was a time to experiment and when not. Steve liked to be on his back with Bucky over him; Bucky preferred this. He liked the way Steve held his hips as he took him.

When they’d rediscovered their intimacy, it hadn’t taken long to find their pattern: the dance, the arousal, the preparations they took. They knew each other’s movements by instinct.

Bucky moaned, deep and long, as Steve pressed inside him. They rocked together, slow at first. Bucky loved the burn and build; he loved the tight grip of Steve’s hands.

They’d never done this act during the war years. Perhaps there was never enough time, though Bucky suspected it was too intimate, too much. The amount of trust he felt to be with Steve this way sometimes overwhelmed him.

But right now, it was less about the deepness of their love and more about the sheer need each of them felt. The first slow thrusts came sooner and faster and harder. Bucky groaned and pressed back into Steve’s rhythm.

“God, Bucky—“

They moved more and more, whispering urges to each other, racing towards a finish that came with a deep moan and sated cry.

They collapsed together against the mattress.

After some steadying breaths and a few sighs, they flopped onto their backs, their legs tangled together. Steve kept his hand at Bucky’s nape and Bucky caressed Steve’s flank with his metal fingers.

Bucky felt wonderfully tired and thought he might be able to sleep now, but he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment drift away. He snorted softly. “I sort of feel badly for Peggy now.”

Steve sounded surprised and amused as he said, “What?”

“Because of the fantasy,” Bucky said. “You were cheating on her.”

Steve snorted a soft chuckle. “I suppose I was.”

They were silent again for a time, but Bucky could tell from Steve’s breathing that he hadn’t yet fallen asleep. 

“I liked your story,” he said. 

Steve chuckled again. “I noticed.”

Honestly, Bucky had loved the story. It sent away his darker thoughts and turned a needless worry into a beautiful memory. And he took all the good memories he could make. Even if they were fabricated tales of what could have been.

“I think you’re right,” Bucky said. “We would have figured it out. In our way, we would have been together.”

Steve hummed an agreement. “Of course we would have. Because I always loved you, Bucky. Then, now. I love you.”

Bucky shifted to prop himself up on one elbow and look at Steve, his perfect face, still with the eyes of the boy he’d loved in Brooklyn.

He smiled as Steve smiled at him, then he said, “Then and now, I love you, too.”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> NEW! --> read about what happened in Paris, in the follow-up fic: [Paris](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1712081/chapters/3645845)


End file.
